


The Sun (and His Sunshine)

by edawnings



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Best Friends, M/M, Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16892037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edawnings/pseuds/edawnings
Summary: In Hwitaek’s book, ‘best friend’ was a fairly relative term. Everyone’s best friend was different. Everyone’s relationship with their best friend was unique to their own personalities and dynamic. Best friends were soulmates, in a sense. Everyone’s best friend was the perfect match for them, at that particular point in time. It was a sweet concept. But Hwitaek couldn’t bring himself to care much about anyone else’s best friend. His best friend was too great for him to focus on anyone else’s.He supposed that’s why he’d fallen in love with his own best friend. He didn’t think anyone could match with the level of pure glory and beauty his best friend brought into his life. No one could possibly be as wonderful as Kim Hyojong.





	The Sun (and His Sunshine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixieyutoda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieyutoda/gifts).



> Hello, all!
> 
> Not a lot of people knew this fic was happening, but that's because it's dedicated to my absolute best friend in the world! I wrote this to show her how much I love her, and to show her how much I appreciate her helping me out with all of my artistic endeavours. She's often my muse, and I could not be more thankful for all she does for me.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The sunrise was one of Hwitaek’s favourite times of the day. Hwitaek liked sunsets, as did everyone else, but he had always like sunrises, more. Birds sang to wake the world up, the air fresh and clean. The sun painted pale blues, and pinks, and yellows across the sky and clouds, enveloping the world in soft colours of assurance. It was a calm, quiet part of day, that only promised fortune and health. There was something about the sun rising and lighting this part of the world up, that made Hwitaek feel at ease. It was beautiful. It was like the sun was coming alive for another day, and Hwitaek really liked that.

 

In Hwitaek’s book, ‘best friend’ was a fairly relative term. Everyone’s best friend was different. Everyone’s relationship with their best friend was unique to their own personalities and dynamic. Best friends were soulmates, in a sense. Everyone’s best friend was the perfect match for them, at that particular point in time. It was a sweet concept. But Hwitaek couldn’t bring himself to care much about anyone else’s best friend. His best friend was too great for him to focus on anyone else’s.

 

He supposed that’s why he’d fallen in love with his own best friend. He didn’t think anyone could match with the level of pure glory and beauty his best friend brought into his life. No one could possibly be as wonderful as Kim Hyojong.

 

They’d been best friends for what felt like forever. They’d met in middle school. Their bond was instantaneous. From the first time they met, onward, they had been the closest of friends. In high school, they’d practically been inseparable. They were known for being seemingly attached at the hip, never without the other. They knew everything about each other, from something as simple as their favourite colours, to their biggest fears. Hyojong’s favourite colour was black, Hwitaek’s blue. Hyojong was afraid of water. Hwitaek was afraid of being along. Hwitaek kept Hyojong away from swimming pools. Hyojong made sure Hwitaek was never alone.

 

Now, they were closer than they ever had been. They had a lot of other friends, but no friendship was quite the same as the one they shared. They loved each other more than anything. That stayed true though all their years of friendship. It stayed true, even through the countless number of girlfriends Hyojong had. He was charismatic, and unique, so it was no wonder he went through nice girls as quickly as he did. He didn’t usually stay with them for long, but nonetheless. It seemed like he was always making some pretty girl’s heart flutter. And often, he made Hwitaek’s heart flutter, too.

 

Hwitaek had never understood why he felt weird about Hyojong dating girls. He figured it was because he didn’t like girls, and he’d come out to Hyojong in the ninth grade, before anyone else knew. He figured it was because he was gay, so he couldn’t relate to the attraction Hyojong had to all of these women. Until about a year ago, he thought it was something like that. Something entirely platonic. And then he realized that Hyojong’s squeaky, funny laugh made him feel like the whole world was slowing down around that laugh, so Hwitaek could take his time to relish in the warmth it created. Hyojong’s smile made Hwitaek smile. And everything else he did made Hwitaek’s heart beat loud in his ears. About six months ago, Hwitaek realized that he was most definitely in love with Hyojong. In love with his best friend.

 

He knew Hyojong was straight. He knew his love for Hyojong was romantically one-sided. That was alright with Hwitaek. He didn’t need Hyojong to fall in love with him, or anything. All he wanted was for Hyojong to be his best friend, and nothing else. Hwitaek needed Hyojong to keep him company. He didn’t want to be left alone.

 

They were in their third year of college, now. They’d decided to go to college together. Hwitaek was waiting for Hyojong to get out of class, since he himself had gotten out early. They were going back to their apartment as soon as Hyojong got out. They had lived together for three and a half years, so in a way, they were each other’s home. He didn’t know if they had any set plans, or if they were going to go home as usual, and unload from the long day of classes. They were probably just going to eat and watch cartoons later, if they didn’t have any of their other friends over. Hwitaek was in the mood to have a quiet day. He was worn out from his classes, and he mostly just wanted to sleep.

 

A strong shoulder slammed into Hwitaek’s, pulling him out of his own thoughts. He looked up to see narrow eyes and a feline smile aimed at him. “Hey,” Hyojong said. His hair was a bright azure; the colour of the sky. It blew against his pale face, brushing over his cheeks. “Have you been waiting long?” His voice was energized, as always, the words clicking off of his tongue with ease. He had a cute voice, so everything he said sounded fun and lighthearted.

 

Hwitaek shook his head quickly, a smile on his face. “No, I just got out a little bit ago.” His hair was falling in his face, silver strands obscuring his vision. He probably needed to get a haircut, but he really wasn’t minding the longer hair. It just covered his eyes, anyway, it wasn’t like Hyojong’s hair.

 

Thin fingers came up to brush the hair out of Hwitaek’s eyes. Hyojong always wore several rings around his fingers, displaying them for everyone to see. He had a flower tattooed on his hand, ‘GOOD’ right next to it. There was a Hello Kitty band aid wrapped around the tip of Hyojong’s pink finger, from where he’d accidentally pricked himself on one of their cacti. A blue flower ring rested just below that band aid, the bright colours eagerly reflecting the vibrancy Hyojong’s personality displayed. It was like Hyojong knew how pretty his hands were, and wanted to draw as much attention to them as possible. It worked, because even as Hyojong drew his hand away from Hwitaek’s face, the older man’s eyes seemed caught, following it until it was back to being limp at his side. “Home?” Hyojong chirped, his eyes creasing at the outer corners.

 

Hwitaek nodded, “yeah,” and they started walking toward the parking garage. It was cool outside, the leaves crunching under their feet. The sidewalk was blanketed in leaves, orange, red, and green popping up against the cement. The trees were almost bare, stripped down to their branches and weathered bark. “I’m really tired today, but I don’t know why. I think I’m going to take a nap and work on my essay for Government.” He had a lot of work to get done, since the semester was just picking up pace. He didn’t think he could work in the lethargic state he was in at the moment, though. A nap was well needed.

 

Hyojong’s steps stuttered so he could step on leaves that caught his attention. When they crunched loudly under his foot, he gave a small, satisfied smile. “Sounds good,” he said, eyes watching the ground. “I might invite Wooseok over tonight, because I want to smoke.”

 

Hwitaek’s eyes flickered up to the side of Hyojong’s face. His loop earring was glinting in the sunlight, leading the older man’s attention down to the tattoo on the side of his neck. Everything about Hyojong seemed like it was glowing under the rays of the sun. Hwitaek snorted, bumping his shoulder against the blue-haired man’s. “Do you need Wooseok to do that?” he teased. Truthfully, he didn’t mind that Hyojong got high, sometimes. He had cared, at first. One of the only fights they’d ever gotten into was when Hwitaek had found out. Hyojong had been hiding it, and Hwitaek had been worried about Hyojong’s health, and the legal aspects of everything. Hwitaek had been more upset that Hyojong had felt the need to hide it from him. They’d fought about it for about two hours, before they came to an understanding. Now, Hyojong only smoked sometimes, and Hwitaek didn’t mind it. It kept Hyojong at bay, and made him happy. Hwitaek had tried it a few times, and he could see why Hyojong liked it. It was relaxing, especially for someone like Hyojong, who tended to get riled up. It brought him back down to earth, sometimes.

 

“Are you going to smoke with me?” Hyojong asked, his bleached eyebrows raised in question. Hwitaek didn’t know why he still bleached his eyebrows, he wasn’t blond anymore. Hwitaek shook his head. “Then yes, I do need Wooseok. I don’t like smoking alone.”

 

It was exceptionally darker under the hood of the parking garage. Hwitaek could barely see the glint of Hyojong’s jewelry, or an inkling of his dark eyes. Hyojong’s hair seemed more of a deep ocean blue, in the damp shadows of the building. “Should we pick up snacks, then?” Hwitaek asked, in regards to Hyojong and Wooseok’s inebriated states. When they smoked enough, they tended to get very, very hungry. They were endless voids, waiting to be filled with chocolate-covered pretzels and cheap potato chips. Hwitaek knew the safe choice was to get food beforehand.

 

Hyojong shook his head, the wave of blue hair swaying with him. “I think we still have Halloween candy.” Hyojong and Hwitaek had given candy out to some of the younger kids in their apartment complex, for the holiday. They’d bought about three times as they had needed, so the two of them were still making his way through it. Hyojong had already eaten all of the Reese’s, so Hwitaek was happily partaking in eliminating the Twix. “We should be fine. If we need more food, I’ll just order in.”

 

“I’ll pitch in for that,” Hwitaek said, stepping over a small puddle of what he hoped was water. “I could go for some sushi, right now.” He’d had a small breakfast, and a cup of coffee for lunch. Sushi was just what Hwitaek wanted for dinner. Plus, they hadn’t gotten takeout, or been out to eat, this week. They usually did something a bit more expensive, once a week. They deserved to spoil themselves.

 

“That sounds bomb,” Hyojong said, sliding into the passenger’s side seat of Hwitaek’s car. “I would probably die for some sashimi.” His fingers played with the drawstring of his sweatpants, rolling it between his fingers. His fingernails were well-kempt, short and shiny. His hands were lithe, and Hwitaek like looking at them. “Wooseok will eat pretty much anything.” It was like Hyojong, to take others into consideration. He always cared how other people were feeling, or what they wanted to do. He’d never cared what people thought of him, but he did care how people felt. That was part of the reason it was easy for Hwitaek to be best friends with Hyojong—his naturally caring nature. Hyojong was kind, and very genuine about it. Even something as small as making sure Wooseok would eat when they were high was a perfect display of how much he gave to the world.

 

It made Hwitaek feel warm right under his cheeks, like there was a gentle fire crackling within him. It was a steady, beautiful fire, that Hyojong happened to have lit.

 

“Do you want anyone over?” Hyojong asked, leaning his elbow on the window sill. As they pulled out of the parking garage, cool light streamed in through the car windows. It made Hyojong’s blue hair look like it was made of pure light, the long strands lit up. The sun was streaming in behind him, circling his head like a halo. It was fitting. “So you’re not the only sober one. You can have Jinho over, or Shinwon.” One of his fingers poked into Hwitaek’s side, making the darker-haired man squeak. “Huh? Shinwon?” He was grinning.

 

Hwitaek sighed out a laugh. “We’re just friends.” Hyojong was _convinced_ that Hwitaek had a crush on their friend, Shinwon. It was just because Hwitaek and Shinwon happened to get along really well, and they were often very loud about it. “Shinwon is just my friend, I’ve told you that.” Hwitaek didn’t have the time or motivation to have a crush on anyone. Much less another one of his close friends. He didn’t think that’d be healthy.

 

Hyojong snorted, a devious smile on his face. “But think of how _cute_ you two would look together.”

 

Hwitaek laughed. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it.” The thought really had never crossed his mind. He loved Shinwon, but not in that way. Their friendship was the farthest it would ever go. That was the way it was supposed to be. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ll invite anyone. I have to work on my essay, and you and Wooseok are enough for me.” Just Hyojong was enough for Hwitaek, truthfully. An added Wooseok, while being a nice bonus, was far more than he needed. He liked having Wooseok—and the rest of their friends—over at their place. But it just wasn’t necessary, to Hwitaek.

 

“Alright,” Hyojong nodded, looking out the window. Hwitaek wondered if he knew that his hair was the colour of the sky. He wondered if he knew that when he laughed, his eyes shone as brightly as the sun. He wondered if Hyojong knew that he was as soft as the countless clouds in the sky, but he brought ten times more joy to the worlds than they ever could. He wondered if Hyojong knew how great he was. He hoped he did.

 

Golden afternoon autumn sunlight made it’s way down to earth, coating Hyojong’s smooth skin in a honey glaze. His eyelashes were long, casting crawling shadows down his cheeks when he blinked. The black t-shirt he wore was stretched over his broad shoulders, clinging to the prominent muscles of his chest. Indigo veins ran down Hyojong’s forearms, even though he was relaxed. The veins crisscrossed over his hands, shifting under pale skin when he moved. His lips were always hot pink, like a rose, ad they looked just as soft and inviting. Roses had always been one of Hwitaek’s favourite flowers, but Hyojong made it so he liked the pink ones the best, out of all the others.

 

Hyojong’s narrow eyes squinted in the sunlight, fine lines creasing at the outer edges. A small smile was permanently etched onto his face, the corners of his lips naturally curled upward. “What?” he asked, slightly tilting his head to the side.

 

“What?” Hwitaek echoed, snapping his attention back to the road. He was a good driver, it wasn’t like him to get so distracted. He was sure that both his mother and his driver’s ed teacher would be disappointed in Hwitaek for letting himself get so occupied with his best friend. It wasn’t for the reason they’d think, though. It wasn’t Hwitaek’s fault that Hyojong was impossibly mesmerizing.

 

“You were staring at me,” Hyojong said, his voice smooth and sweet, like syrup. Not regular maple syrup; that was too plain, and Hwitaek had never been too fond of it. Maybe one of the fancy syrups they got, whenever they went out for breakfast. Strawberry, all sticky and pink. It was undoubtedly sugary, and everyone seemed to love it. It was perfect for taking care of someone’s sweet tooth, and it was often reached for. It gave Hwitaek butterflies in his stomach, from the excitement of eating so carelessly. There wasn’t a worry in the world, when Hwitaek was drowning in the artificial pink of strawberry syrup. It made Hwitaek feel happy and free, like he was a kid again, living in his fuchsia glucose wonderland.

 

Or maybe Hyojong’s voice was like butterscotch flavoured syrup. Not only was it sweet, like the strawberry syrup, but it was savoury. A soft, buttery quality that made it all the more pleasant to take in. Unlike the strawberry, there could never be too much of it; it couldn’t be _too_ sweet. Not everyone liked it, due to it’s complex and unique flavour, but the people who did, loved it. Hwitaek thought that was a bit more fitting.

 

“Is there something on my face?” No, Hyojong’s voice was honey. Perfect, natural, a golden type of smoothness that made Hwitaek want to drown in it. Sticky in the way that only made Hwitaek want more of it, the taste lingering for hours after it was actually gone. It was timeless, and sunlit, and beautiful. Hyojong’s voice was like honey.

 

“Oh,” Hwitaek smiled, the tips of his ears going hot. “No. The blue hair just looks good on you.” That much was the truth. It did look good on him. After so many years of Hwitaek being used to Hyojong’s variations of blond, the blue was a nice change. Hyojong had been blond for around three or so years, after being brunette all his life before that, but there was something especially him about the blond. It looked like pale wheat, and canary feathers, and the way an angel’s hair would look, if one came down to earth. But the blue hair was the sea, and the sky, and everything in between, so Hwitaek liked it. He had a feeling Hyojong would go back to blond, once the blue faded into nothingness. Hwitaek wouldn’t mind that. He thought the blond was enjoyable.

 

Hyojong smiled at the compliment, and Hwitaek could hear the blood rushing through his head. “Thanks,” he said, running a hand through his hair. His fingers slid through the strands easily, and Hwitaek thought about ho soft it was, even though it’d been bleached so many times. Hwitaek knew for a fact how silky Hyojong’s hair felt, from all the nights they spent together on the couch. Hwitaek’s feelings for Hyojong out of the picture, both of them rather enjoyed physical contact. They would put on a movie, the genres varying from family movies, to romantic comedies, to the horror movies Hwitaek jumped at. They usually had a cup of hot chocolate warming their hands, if not a plate of food. Hyojong would slump down on the couch until his head was directly in the older man’s lap, his hair in a messy halo around his head. Sometimes it was Hwitaek who was lying on Hyojong, it just depended on how they’d started out sitting, and what type of day they’d both had. If Hyojong ended up in Hwitaek’s lap, Hwitaek would get his fingers in that cobalt blue hair, and play with it until one of them fell asleep. Hyojong’s hair was almost dangerously soft, and enough so to put Hwitaek asleep just by touching it. It was almost as if Hyojong was magical. Hwitaek really would not doubt it. “When do you think you’re going to change your hair?” the blue-haired man asked, his black eyes twinkling. It was hard not to believe in magic, when Hyojong’s eyes looked like that.

 

Hwitaek shrugged, pulling the car into their apartment’s parking space. “I don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t look that faded, so I haven’t thought about it too much.” His hair was a light silver, faded from a much darker grey. He thought it was a colour that well-suited him. Hyojong was the vibrant blue of the atmosphere, and Hwitaek was a simple, solid grey. There was nothing too exciting about him, really, but the grey complimented the blue rather nicely. That was enough for Hwitaek to favour the colour.

 

“I think it still looks fine. I was just wondering,” Hyojong said, using a hand to rustle Hwitaek’s hair. Hwitaek leaned into the touch, smiling wide. He opened his door, half of his body hanging out of the car. “Let’s go inside. Wanna nap before Wooseok gets here?”

 

Hwitaek’s face broke out into a grin. Hyojong made his heart beat so loud. He felt like his entire body was vibrating with pure sunshine, that’s how happy he felt. “Of course I do,” he said, opening his door quickly. “While you two are smoking, I’ll probably work on my essay, if that’s okay.”

 

They got out of the car, walking side-by-side. They walked slowly, like there wasn’t a single care in the world. The sun was getting lower with each passing minute, the air getting more frigid, but neither of them minded. It was still decently warm, and even if it hadn’t been, they were walking close enough to feel the other’s body heat. The leaves falling around them were just as bright as Hyojong’s hair; just as bright as Hyojong. There was no one outside with them, none of their neighbors in sight. It was just Hwitaek, Hyojong, and the sun. Hwitaek and Hyojong, enveloped in the bright blue sky, in all of their happy glory. Just Hwitaek and Hyojong. The very best of friends.

 

-

 

Hwitaek woke up to a blur of indigo and peach that happened to be the sunset invading the living room of their apartment.

 

He lifted his head up off of the pillow he was lying on, only to realize that it was Hyojong’s broad chest, steadily rising and falling with his breathing. He was warm, his blue hair a mess, sticking to his forehead and cheeks. His eyes were closed, long eyelashes brushing against the top of his cheeks. He looked so peaceful, all of his features resting in perfect slumber. He was a perfect collage of pale beige and gentle pink, contrasted with the deep blue hues of his long hair. He was a gorgeous blend of soft colours and angular lines, and it was the dichotomy that made him so difficult to look away from. Hwitaek wanted to look at him forever.

 

Light was coming in from the windows they had on the west side of their apartment, drenching their plain white walls in a tangerine and dandelion wash of colour. The sunset transformed their basic living room into a radiant palace of hues, the warm tones dripping over Hyojong’s sleeping features. The objects in their living room cast long, dark shadows across the floor and up the walls. Their living room currently looked so fantastical, thanks to the setting sun.

 

Hwitaek blinked a few times, remembering why he’d woken up. Their front door had been knocked on a few times, so he probably needed to stop thinking about how soft Hyojong was, and actually get up. He sat up, groaning as he stretched his limbs out. He made sure not to wake Hyojong up as he stood, instead admiring the shape his lips made when he was asleep.

 

Hwitaek made his way across the living room, trying to wake himself up. There were succulents and small plants lining their windows and placed on some sort of furniture. Hyojong liked the plants because he had a soft spot for every living being. Hwitaek liked the plants because they reminded him of Hyojong. They were bright chartreuse, and alive, and they gave oxygen to the world. Hwitaek really liked all of the plants in their apartment. They added to the energy in the house.

 

“Oh,” Hwitaek smiled, as soon as he swung the door open. Wooseok was standing in the doorway, towering over the older man. His black hair was hanging over his forehead, large eyes looking down at Hwitaek. “Hello, Wooseok,” he chirped, stepping out of the way so Wooseok could enter the living room.

 

Wooseok was so much taller than Hwitaek and Hyojong, he filled up the space much more than the grey-haired man was used to. He looked like a giant in Hyojong and Hwitaek’s tiny, perfect world. “Hey, Hui,” Wooseok smiled, pulling a small grinder out of his pocket and playing with it in his hands. It was silver, so it caught the light as he loved it around. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt and jeans, always the type of person to want to blend is as much as he could. Wooseok was taller than most people, so Hwitaek figured he wanted to compensate for that fact.

 

Hwitaek loved that nickname. _Hui_. He’d acquired it during his first year of high school, when Hyojong had cutely shortened his name. At first, Hyojong was the only one who called him that, calling his name across the hallways, and smiling his name when it was time to get food. Then, everyone started picking the nickname up, calling Hwitaek that in passing, and then it just became his name, to everyone else. Hyojong still called him that, the crinkle of his eyes visible when he did. Hwitaek loved the sound of that name, from all of his friends, but mostly from Hyojong. He just made that name seem special, like it was only for Hwitaek. And it was. It was his.

 

“Were you just asleep?” Wooseok asked, kitting his eyebrows in question.

 

Leading Wooseok to where Hyojong was sprawled out on their beige couch, Hwitaek nodded. A smile pilled onto his face when he looked down at his best friend. “We overslept our nap,” he explained. They had just wanted to get a bit of rest, Hyojong so he could hang out with Wooseok, and Hwitaek so he could functionally work on his essay. They both had priorities, just slightly different ones. Either way, they’d both slept far longer than they had intended to.

 

The taller man chuckled, brown eyes studying Hyojong. “He looks weird when he sleeps,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

Hwitaek laughed loudly, the noise filling the space. He’d always been told he had the loudest laugh in the world. His parents told him that, his professors told him that, Hyojong told him that all the time. It didn’t bother Hwitaek, anymore. It used to, back when he was younger. He was self-conscious about laughing too loud and annoying people. He didn’t care now, though. He was happy, so he figured that there was no reason to hide that. Being happy was good. He believed that people should share their happiness with the world. It would make everything a little better for everyone.

 

“He looks peaceful when he sleeps,” Hwitaek said, smiling so hard he could barely see. It smelled like laundry detergent and weed in their apartment, and it seemed to always have. It was the nice type of detergent, because Hwitaek had been raised to be picky about the little things in life, so it smelled like soap, lavender, and the slightest bit of processed chemicals. They always got compliments about how nice their place smelled, so Hwitaek was glad he’d elected to be so picky. The weed, however, was from Hyojong. He didn’t smoke every night, and when he did, he tried to do it out on their balcony. Sometimes, though, it was too cold outside, or he just needed to do it to get to sleep. So, it kind of smelled like weed in their apartment. It wasn’t a bad smell at all, the lavender soap and smoke. It was rather peaceful, but maybe that was because Hwitaek associated it with home. It made him feel at peace.

 

“That’s what I mean,” Wooseok laughed, flopping down on one of their most comfortable chairs. It was a worn-down rocking chair, with faux leather cushions making it so anyone who sat on it practically sunk in. It looked a little beat up, but Hyojong’s mother had given it to them when they’d moved in together, so they never even considered doing anything with it. “He’s usually so hyper, for such an old man.”

 

Hyojong really was a hyper sort of person. Even if he was tired, he always had a high level of energy, bouncing on the balls of his feat, talking loudly and happily. He was like a young child who had eaten their fill of Halloween candy, jumping around with the rush of sugar. He was happy, and bright, and infinitely, he was all things good in the world.

 

Hwitaek had a lot of energy, too, a fact he’d aware of since he was very young. He liked yelling, and jumping around, and getting other people just as excited as he always was. It was part of the reason he and Hyojong got along so well, they both had enough energy for at least five other people. Especially when they were together. Separate, they were actually kind of quiet people, just casually socializing with their other friends and acquaintances. Together, though, they were like Mentos and a liter of Diet Coke, exploding and fizzling the moment they made contact. It was more fun, that way. Sometimes their energy was too much for people to handle, but they’d grown accustomed to not caring. They laughed a lot, and danced around, and yelled just because they were excited. It was nice, to be happy just for the sake of being happy. Their energy gave each other that excuse.

 

“Hey,” Hwitaek laughed, smacking Wooseok on the shoulder. “I’m older than him.” By about ten months. Two-hundred and seventy-seven days, to be exact.

 

“I know,” Wooseok snorted, leaning away from Hwitaek’s swings.

 

The shorter man kept trying to swing at Wooseok, despite the other man’s giggly protests. Compared to Wooseok’s giant being, Hwitaek’s hits were no more than fruit flies bumping against him. Still, it made Hwitaek feel better about his elderly tendencies. “You’re not that much younger than either of us,” Hwitaek laughed out, finally giving up on beating his taller friend.

 

Wooseok’s face split into a smile. His hair was messy from Hwitaek trying to wrestle with him. “I’m five years younger than you,” he pointed out. When he sat, his wide legs spread out, and it felt like he was taking up half of their living room. Truthfully, he was only taking up a small portion of it, he just seemed so much bigger than the two people who were always there. Hwitaek didn’t mind, though. Company was nice.

 

“Is that so?” Hwitaek squeaked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. When had his friends gotten so young? “Anyway, I’ll wake Hyojong up, so you can actually hang out with him.” Wooseok laughed at his obvious change of subject. He put his hand on Hyojong’s shoulder, still in awe of how warm Hyojong was. He’d lived with the blue-haired man for three and a half years, yet he couldn’t get over how warm Hyojong was, to the touch. It was like lava lived under his skin, running through his veins like blood. Maybe that was why Hyojong was so bright, too. “Hey, Hyojong, wake up,” Hwitaek said softly, shaking the younger man’s shoulder. Hyojong blinked a couple times, his face contorting into a mixture of lethargy and confusion. He groaned loudly, stretching his arms and legs out. “Wooseok is here. You had plans, remember?”

 

Hyojong shot up into a sitting position on the couch, suddenly wide awake. “I need to smoke,” he said quickly, his voice still raspy with sleep. His hand came up to tug at the hem of Hwitaek’s shirt, and the older man couldn’t help but to laugh at how cute it was. Hyojong looked like a small kitten, begging to be picked up and taken care of. “Hey, Hui,” he said, batting his eyes up at Hwitaek. Hwitaek didn’t know if it was intentional, or not, but it made the tips of his ears flush, hopefully hidden by the grey of his hair. “Can we smoke inside? I’m already comfortable and I don’t want to go out in the cold.” His bubblegum lips stuck out in an intoxicating pout.

 

There was no way Hwitaek could refuse his best friend of something so simple, especially when he looked like that when he asked. “Sure,” he said, using a hand to ruffle Hyojong’s feathery soft hair. “I’m going to open a window or two, though, so you don’t hotbox me. I don’t want my government professor having to deal with a high Hui.” He laughed at the thought of it, the other two joining in.

 

Hwitaek, when he was high, was somehow even louder and more energetic than a sober Hui was. On most people, such as Hyojong and Wooseok, weed calmed them down and put them in such a relaxed state, it was almost impossible for them to not fall asleep. With Hui, though, he got fidgety, and twitchy, and handsy, and _truly_ loud, there was no way he would be able to write a cohesive essay on a subject that wasn’t chocolate cake. That sounded good right _now_ , he couldn’t imagine how he’d be if the other two hotboxed him.

 

Hwitaek moved to open a window, the big one in the living room. The other two settled down quickly.

 

Wooseok was packing some weed into a pipe easily, not even having to think about doing it. Out of all of Hyojong and Hwitaek’s friends, besides Hyojong himself, Wooseok definitely smoked the most. They all did it sometimes, when they were at big gatherings, or on Thanksgiving, so they could eat more than humanly possible, but overall, they didn’t do it that often. Wooseok, on the other hand, loved to be high, and there was a ninety-percent chance he had a pipe on him at all times. “So,” Wooseok said, picking his pipe up and looking at Hyojong. He had his lighter in his hand, ready to go. “How’s your girlfriend?” He held the pipe up to his lips and took a deep inhale, handing the pipe and lighter to Hyojong.

 

There was a bitter taste in Hwitaek’s mouth, and he knew exactly why. He couldn’t help it. He wanted Hyojong to be happy, of course, that was always his number one priority. But Hyojong;s girlfriends were always boring, and not very sociable, and even if Hwitaek hadn’t been gay, there was no way he could see why Hyojong kept being with people like that. Hyojong was kind, and interesting, and fun, and none of the girls Hyojong had ever dating matched that well enough, in Hwitaek’s opinion. It wasn’t like Hwitaek disliked the girls Hyojong dated because he wanted him for himself—that wasn’t the case at all. If Hwitaek felt like he himself wasn’t even good enough for Hyojong, how was there any way that other people could be? None of these girls were good enough for Hyojong, not by a long shot. Truthfully, Hwitaek didn’t know if there was anyone out there good enough for his best friend, but it certiainly wasn’t one of the boring, common college girls that Hyojong had a habit for hooking up with.

 

Hwitaek grabbed his lap top off of the kitchen table, and sunk down into one of the couch cushions, close to Hyojong, but not close enough to get second-hand high. He opened his laptop, listening to his friend’s conversation.

 

Hyojong blew smoke from between his lips, the hazy air floating around his face, like fog. They went well with Hyojong’s ethereal features, further reminding Hwitaek of how unreal he looked. Hyojong looked more like a fairy, or an angel, or even a demon, than a human. He was too beautiful for it to not be otherworldly. “Oh, we broke up,” Hyojong said with an apathetic shrug. “I wasn’t really feeling it, and she was boring.”

 

Wooseok chuckled, shaking his head. “You say that about all your girlfriends,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. Not only did Hwitaek think these girls were too generic for Hyojong, Hyojong thought the same thing. “How many of these nice girls have you made cry in the past couple of months?”

 

Hwitaek’s laptop was slowly starting up, but it wasn’t like he minded listening in on this conversation. Hyojong was his best friend. If he had a girlfriend, that was less time he would be able to spend with Hwitaek. If he was single, for any amount of time, all of his free time would be spent with Hwitaek. That was a fairly good deal, if you asked Hwitaek.

 

“I don’t know,” Hyojong mumbled, slumping further into the couch. “I can’t seem to stay with any of them for more than two weeks. I want to date them until we’re actually together, and then I get bored and I realize that they’re not as cool as I thought they were.” He shook his head, waves if his ocean-like hair crashing around and framing his face. He hadn’t gotten a haircut in quite some time, but Hwitaek thought it was a nice length, on him. When he had shorter hair, he looked a lot younger, due to his round cheeks and cutesy expressions, but any longer might be too much for Hyojong to handle. This was a good length, and it framed his face to perfection. Hyojong put The Birth of Venus to shame, in terms of masterpieces. “I might just stay single for a while, until I find a girl I actually like.”

 

Hwitaek felt the corners of his lips turn up, and he felt bad. He wanted Hyojong to find true love, and understand what it was like to hear his heart beat in his ears, and have constant butterflies in his stomach, or what it was like to want to give someone the entire sun. He wanted that for Hyojong, more than he wanted it for himself.

 

Wooseok nodded as he inhaled, spoke as he exhaled. “I think that’s a good idea. These girls are probably at least kind of nice, you shouldn’t just go around breaking hearts.” Wooseok was single, had been for a long time, but he didn’t seem to mind it. He had his best friend, Yuto, and a lot of other close friends, and he seemed happy with his life, that way. He wasn’t the type of person to get lonely a lot, and Hwitaek gave credit for that to Yuto. Maybe that was how Hyojong and Hwitaek could be. Maybe they didn’t need anyone else in their lives; they could just stay best friends until the end of time, and they could be happy. Hwitaek didn’t know for sure, but he thought he could stay happy, just being best friends with Hyojong.

 

Hyojong shrugged again. He’d pushed his long blue hair behind his ears, so his face was on full display. Hwitaek was the only one who was enjoying it as much as he was, but that was alright. He was doing enough staring and gawking for seven other people. “I like dating these girls, though. It’s fun to have someone and fool around whenever you want, you know?” Wooseok shook his head in honesty, looking like he absolutely did not understand what Hyojong was talking about. “It just sucks because these girls are only fun for a couple of weeks before everything starts falling into habit, and I’ve had all the fun I can have, and then I want to move on. “I’m pretty sure I’ve kissed like half the girls in our grade, and I can’t even be proud of that because I find all of them so fuckin’ boring.”

 

Right now, Hwitaek’s heart felt heavy whenever he thought of Hyojong kissing a girl on the lips, or smiling at her in the way he smiled at Hwitaek, when they were talking. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want a girl taking his best friend away from him. Hyojong laughed loudly at Hwitaek’s jokes, until both of their stomachs hurt. Hwitaek was the one Hyojong took naps with, when they were both exhausted, and he was the one Hyojong came to when he was having a hard time. They were each other’s main sources of support, and there was something about that, that Hwitaek would not have given away for the world. He wanted to keep being Hyojong’s best friend, and wingman, and since he couldn’t be anything more than that, he wanted to be the best friend known to mankind.

 

“Maybe stop kissing every girl you lay eyes on,” Wooseok laughed, coughing as he did. He was clearly very amused by his own words, eyes creasing as he laughed.

 

Hyojong threw one of the couch pillows at Wooseok, hitting him in the face. “Shut up,” he defended in a laugh, holding the pipe carefully between his fingers. “I _don’t_ , you fuck. A lot of girls want to kiss me, and I’m okay with that. It’s just annoying because I want a girl I actually like, not just one that’s good at making out with me.”

 

Hwitaek nodded in understanding, even though he didn’t agree. He understood, sure, that sort of love was highly sought after, and anyone would be insane to not want it. But he couldn’t imagine himself caring so deeply about anyone who wasn’t a quirky, blue-haired boy with a knack for gardening, and the power to make Hwitaek feel like he was standing in front of the sun. “You’ll get there,” he said, sure of himself.

 

It was almost too easy to fall in love with Hyojong. Hwitaek had just wanted a good friend, but as the years went on, he just kept falling deeper and deeper into the marigold warmth that was Hyojong. The more they got to know each other, after all these years, the more Hwitaek found himself sighing at the way Hyojong’s hair blew in the wind, or the way his colourful beaded bracelets encircled around his wrists, or the way Hyojong bumped into Hwitaek when he was happy. There was no doubt several girls would fall in love with Hyojong, by the time Hyojong actually wanted to settle down. It was natural, to fall in love with Hyojong.

 

Hyojong smiled, the widest smile he saved for Hwitaek, and the grey-haired man forgot how to breathe. He counted backwards from one-hundred, and went through the alphabet backwards as well, just to make sure he was still alive. Hyojong’s smile was a powerful thing. “Thanks, Hui.” His eyes creased into tiny crescents, the apples of his cheeks getting rounder, when he smiled like this. It was his happiest smile, Hwitaek knew that from the years they’d been by each other’s side.

 

He was afraid that if there was a girl Hyojong really loved, all of that would get taken away from him. Hyojong would cuddle with her, and laugh with her, and go to her when he got sad, and Hwitaek would simply be forgotten, and left to blow away in the wind, like fine grains of sand. He wouldn’t be remembered by Hyojong. Without Hyojong, he would be completely alone, forced to deal with the fact that his best friend was straight, and in love with some girl, and eventually, he’d have to deal with the fact that his best friend wasn’t even his best friend, anymore. And Hwitaek honestly couldn’t think of anything that was more terrifying to him.

 

 

Three hours later, Hwitaek was nearly finished with his essay, and the other two men were thoroughly stoned. It had gotten insanely warm in the living room of their apartment, due to the body heat, the smoke, and the food they’d ordered about an hour ago. Hyojong had gotten sashimi, just like he’d said he would, Hwitaek got crab rolls, and Wooseok claimed to be a simple man of simple taste, so he’d gotten tuna. They’d eaten it all quickly, the other two faster than Hwitaek, since they were not only bigger than him, but they were also really stoned.

 

“Couples have secrets all the time,” Wooseok said, smoke drifting out of his mouth as he spoke.

 

Now, they were all lazily sitting in the same seats they’d began in, but Hyojong was sitting a lot closer to Hwitaek, their sides pressed together. Hyojong got cuddly when he was high. So did Hwitaek, but right now he was sober, so he could fully appreciate how giggly and close Hyojong was.

 

Hyojong was pressed right against Hwitaek, his knees folded up by his chin. His head was leaning on the silver-haired man’s upper arm, his cheek squished up and making his eye crease. “That’s bullshit,” Hyojong said. They’d started this conversation by talking more about Hyojong’s relationships. He was talking about how he didn’t like having to get past the stage of revealing all of his secrets to a girl, and Wooseok had quickly said that it was okay—and healthy—to have some secrets. “If I don’t have secrets with my best friend, I’m not going to have secrets with the woman I’m marrying. That doesn’t make sense.”

 

Hwitaek pushed the concept of getting married to the very back of his mind, because just the word itself was enough to make Hwitaek feel nauseous. They were still in college. They were too young to think about anything like that, anyway. “I have to agree with Hyojong,” he said, not even being biased. “I don’t think keeping secrets from each other is going to help the relationship at all.” His laptop was sitting next to him, having been abandoned before they’d eaten. All Hwitaek had to do was write the conclusion and turn it in by the end of the week, so he was doing fine. He could spare the time to talk to his friends.

 

Wooseok rolled his eyes. “Some secrets aren’t important to the relationship, though.”

 

“Okay,” Hyojong said pointedly. “Then what would be the point of keeping them a secret? I’m not saying you have to tell your girlfriend everything you’ve ever done, I’m just saying you shouldn’t _keep_ something a secret.” As he spoke, his voice vibrated the side of Hwitaek’s arm.

 

Wooseok held up the pipe, looking at Hyojong. “Do you want any more?” he asked. The blue-haired man shook his head, so Wooseok leaned forward to set the pipe on their coffee table. “Okay, so what’s your excise for birthday parties and gifts? Should we not keep stuff like that a secret, since all secrets are bad?”

 

“That’s a totally different thing,” Hwitaek laughed, looking at the younger man. Wooseok looked absolutely astounded, and Hwitaek wasn’t sure they were going to be able to get this idea through his head. “Those are surprises. You can keep surprises because that’s something nice you’re doing for your significant other. A secret is something you’re keeping because you feel bad or guilty about it.”

 

Not that Hwitaek had any room to talk. After six months of actively being in love with his best friend, and who knows how many years before that, Hwitaek was an expert at keeping huge secrets. It was for everyone’s good, though. He couldn’t just go up to Hyojong and drop the fact that he was in love with him.

 

Hyojong nodded cutely, scrunching his face up. “Exactly. See, Hui gets it. That’s why we don’t keep any secrets from each other, ever.”

 

Hwitaek swallowed hard, and he suddenly felt guilty. Lying to his best friend about _himself_ took a bigger toll on him than he’d ever care to admit. “Yeah,” he said. It felt like the air had been punched right out of his lungs. He didn’t like keeping things from Hyojong.

 

“Even if it’s a weird sex thing,” Hyojong continued, unaware of how quickly Hwitaek’s heart was pounding in his chest. “Or a dream we had, or our feelings, or public boners. We know everything about each other, and we’ve basically never fought.”

 

Hwitaek didn’t understand how Hyojong could group all of those things together, because he knew for a fact that it was easier to tell Hyojong about public boners than it was to tell him that he was painfully in love with him.

 

They’d fought a total of three times, to be exact, but none of them had lasted more than a couple of hours. One fight was about the weed, but that was over as quickly as it had started. The other was about Hyojong’s declining grades, way back in their last year of high school, when Hwitaek was afraid Hyojong wouldn’t graduate on time, and they wouldn’t be able to go to college together like they’d always planned to, but that was over before both of them had even fallen asleep. The other fight was when they’d gotten way too drunk, and to this day, Hwitaek couldn’t remember much of it. He knew it was about Hyojong being oblivious and Hwitaek being to sensitive, but that was about all he could recall. That fight was the worst, but it was done and over as soon as they’d woken up with searing headaches.

 

“Yeah, but that’s you guys,” Wooseok said, as if that explained everything. It sort of did. “You two are practically married, and it’s still weird that you don’t hide secrets. I don’t want my future wife or husband to know every time I got a boner watching documentaries about spiders in middle school. That’s weird.”

 

This time, Hwitaek didn’t hate the sound ‘married’ gave off. Still scary, they were still to young to think about things like that, but it wasn’t as bad. It didn’t make Hwitaek’s crab rolls want to make another appearance, like the last time did.

 

“Okay, but you shouldn’t hide it. It probably wouldn’t ever come up—hopefully—so if you just don’t actively keep it a secret, it isn’t a big deal,” Hyojong said. His hair had been thrown up into a messy ponytail, strands of sapphire flying around his face.

 

Wooseok frowned at the other two for a moment. His eyes were narrow, lines forming between his furrowed brows. He looked like he was examining a test subject at a lab, instead of a pair of best friends. He looked lost, like there was something he couldn’t put his finger on. “You two really don’t have any secrets from each other?” he asked, more out of curiosity, than anything.

 

“No, of course not,” Hyojong said without hesitation.

 

Hwitaek swallowed hard. He knew it had only been a matter of seconds since the question was asked, but it felt like Wooseok and Hyojong had been waiting for his answer for minutes on end. And he felt guilty. If he said there were no secrets, he would be lying, and lying to Hyojong was one of his least favourite concepts he’d ever thought of. If he said yes, there were secrets, he would have to come up with another secret to tell, which would just be another lie, or he’d have to tell the actual secret in front of Hyojong and one of their close friends. Which was even worse.

 

Hwitaek cleared his throat, slapping a superficial smile onto his own face. “Right,” he said quickly, wanting to change the subject. “It’s getting late, so are you going to stay the night, or are you heading home?” he asked Wooseok, making sure to have a cheerful tone and expression. He just didn’t want to talk about secrets anymore, it was making his palms sweat.

 

Wooseok stood up, stretching his arms so high, his fingers brushed the ceiling. “I better get home,” he said, taking a few steps towards the front door. “I have to get up kind of early tomorrow to go hang out with Yanan.”

 

“What does ‘kind of early’ mean to you?” Hyojong snickered, his soft charcoal eyes following the taller man.

 

Wooseok raised his eyebrows. “Before noon,” he said simply. Hwitaek and Hyojong laughed loudly, but he waved them off. “I’ll see you guys later. Thanks for having me, we should smoke again soon.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had all of his belongings.

 

“Bye, Wooseok,” Hwitaek smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

 

Hyojong waved a hand over the top of the couch, looking up at his friends. “Bye, ‘seok,” he drawled, a feline smile on his face. When Wooseok closed the door behind him, Hyojong rolled over on his back. “I think I’m going to sleep here tonight, I’m too high and warm to move.”

 

Hwitaek laughed, but moved to nudge the younger man, anyway. “No, no, you need to sleep in your bed,” he said, trying to push Hyojong up. Hyojong’s body was a lot more muscular than it looked, taut muscle shifting under his pale daisy skin. “You can’t just sleep out here, go take care of yourself.”

 

Hyojong laughed, a twinkling, soothing sound. He laughed the way a brook sounded streaming down the side of a mountain, babbling and simple. He laughed the way birds chirped in the mornings of springtime, to let everyone know that there was another great day to be lived, and damned if the birds weren’t going to celebrate it. Hyojong laughed the way cats purred when they were lying on the chest of their owner, eyes closed, as happy and peaceful animal could get. It was a familiar sound, Hwitaek was used to hearing, but every time he did, it brought a smile to his face. It was the laugh of Hwitaek’s favourite person in the galaxy, who meant just as much as the solar system did.

 

“Alright, alright,” Hyojong said, getting up and moving towards his bedroom. Hwitaek did the same, since they were across from each other. They both stood in front of their doors, smiling at each other. Hyojong’s eyes were tinted rose, his cheeks a subtle peach. “I’ll take care of myself, as long as you promise to make pancakes tomorrow.” Hyojong was roses, and fresh cut peaches, and wildflowers that bloomed in the cracks of cement. Hyojong was honey, and lemonade, and the parting of clouds after a rainy day. Hyojong was Hyojong, and there was nothing better to be.

 

Hwitaek smiled, his cheeks filling with the light Hyojong had ignited within him. “Sure,” he said. “Goodnight, Hyojong.” He opened his door, stepping in, before looking back up at the blue haired man. Hwitaek didn’t think any rose could be as beautiful as this one was.

 

“Goodnight, Hui.”

 

-

 

A week passes. Everything is in it’s rightful place, as it always is.

 

People keep comparing Hwitaek to the sun, and he wishes he could tell them how wrong they are. There was no way Hwitaek was the sun, and he knew that, because he was best friends with Hyojong.

 

Hyojong was the sun. He was the brightest being on the planet, shining and sparkling and emitting light wherever he went, and whatever he did. He was warm, and he warmed all that were in his company. He made plants grow, and flowers bloom, and gave life to some of the rainiest days Hwitaek had ever experienced. A lot of the time, he was life itself, and he kept the earth spinning. He was the highlight of every day of Hwitaek’s life, and he knew a lot of other people felt the same way.

 

Hwitaek couldn’t be the sun. He didn’t emit nearly as much light. And how could he be something so wonderful, when the back of his mind was plagued with guilt and sadness?

 

The conversation Hyojong and Hwitaek had with Wooseok about secrets was pressing on Hwitaek’s mind like a migraine. He couldn’t help but feel like he was lying to his favourite person and betraying him. He couldn’t help but to feel awful about it.

 

That was why, when Hwitaek sat down on the couch next to Hyojong, he felt like an endless amount of weights were pulling him down to the ground, begging him to give in and sink.

 

“Are you okay?” Hyojong asked, his lips turned down in wonder. Hyojong already had his pajama pants on, the television remote resting on a knee. He was wearing an old t-shirt, a yellow thing, oversized, with a pink flower embroidered on the pocket on the chest. That shirt was around five or six years old. Hwitaek and Hyojong had gotten in the later years of high school, at a thrift shop. They’d made a whole day of leaving town, going to thrift shops, and flea markets, and one of their favourite ice cream shops. The shirt looked worn out, but the yellow looked as nice on Hyojong as it did the first day he bought it. He was studying Hwitaek’s face with those narrow eyes of his. His hair was caught in his eyelashes, so it moved whenever he blinked. He didn’t seem to mind, just kept looking at Hwitaek.

 

“Yeah,” Hwitaek said, without thinking. He’d just gotten off of work, which happened to be tutouring people at their college. He was a little bit brain dead, but that wasn’t it. He felt bleak. So much so, he could have been sick. “No, not really,” he corrected, looking down at the ground. He didn’t want to look at Hyojong, any more. Every time he did, a chorus of ‘ _liar, liar, liar_ ’ ran though his head. It was enough to make anyone go crazy, that was for sure.

 

Hyojong shut the television of, the screen snapping off, to a black screen. He put his hand on Hwitaek’s shoulder, like it was an automatic gesture. His hand didn’t have any rings on it now, since it was late, but his hands were still as pretty. IT was on Hwitaek’s shoulder, like it was made to fit there. “Why, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice quiet. He was leaning in to Hwitaek, as if he were trying to see through the older man, to see what was wrong.

 

The weights pulling Hwitaek down were so heavy, he couldn’t even manage to sit up straight. He felt like there was a hand wrapped around his heart, squeezing and twisting whenever he took a breath. He could hear his heart in his ears, slow, monotone, sad. Hwitaek felt like his skin was as grey as his hair, a reflection of the ashy listlessness he was filled with. “Remember that conversation we had with Wooseok about keeping secrets?” Hyojong nodded, eyes still glued to Hwitaek’s face. It hurt Hwitaek, how concerned Hyojong looked for him. Mostly because Hwitaek was about to ruin all of that. “I have been keeping a secret from you.”

 

Hyojong’s lips parted, unsure of what to say, for a second. “That’s alright,” he said softly. He eyes twinkled with endeavor, steady on Hwitaek. His hand rubbed warmth into Hwitaek’s shoulder, but Hwitaek didn’t deserve that warmth. “What is it?”

 

Hwitaek was a liar, even worse, a liar to his own best friend. After all of the months of trying to cover this up, it was finally tearing away at his very being, and eventually, he would waste away into nothingness. “It’s a really big secret, and I’m sorry I’ve kept it for so long. I didn’t want to tell you because I’m really scared we won’t be friends after I do.” He swallowed hard. He could already feel tears pricking at the back of his eyes, so he willed himself to breathe.

 

“What?” Hyojong asked, almost incredulous. “I don’t care what it is, Hui, you know I’ll always be your best friend. Hell, I don’t even care if you killed someone, I’d help you with an alibi and hide the body, and everything.” He gave a small smile, like he was trying to calm the older man’s nerves.

 

Hwitaek wished Hyojong wasn’t being so sweet about this, but it was just like him. He was the most caring person to ever exist, of course he was worried about Hwitaek. “I really don’t want anything to change between us, because you’re my best friend, and I would die without you. I really don’t want to mess anything up, so if I am, just stop me now.”

 

“You can tell me,” Hyojong said, a subtle line forming between his brows. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

 

Hwitaek bit the inside of his cheek, and finally let his eyes drag up to Hyojong’s beautiful, beautiful face. “I’m in love with you, Hyojong.” He’d never said the words out loud, not to himself, not to any of his friends. They tasted foreign on his tongue, like cherry cough syrup. He wanted to spit the words out, or swallow them down to keep them to himself. He’d never liked cough syrup, especially not the cherry. It was almost the taste of real cherries, except nowhere as sweet. It tasted bitter, and toxic, and he would have much rather had the real thing.

 

Hyojong swallowed hard, his hand still on the silver-haired man’s shoulder. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice a whisper. His eyes were a little wider than usual, the inky black harsh against the whites of his eyes. Hwitaek had always liked Hyojong’s eyes. They were so dark, they seemed as black as his pupils. It made his eyes look endless, truly, as black as the ocean at night. Hwitaek waded through that colour often.

 

Hwitaek nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have been for a long time, I think, but I can’t keep this secret from you anymore.” Hwitaek had never been good at lying. He used to get called out for it by his parents, when he was really young, and then by everyone else, for the rest of his life. Hyojong knew how poor of a liar he was. Lying wasn’t something that came naturally to Hwitaek. “I hate lying to you, you know that, but it’s important that you know that, and I’m really sorry.”

 

Hyojong thought about this, blinking his eyes a few times, in the cute way that he always did. When he spoke, his voice was so soft, it made Hwitaek want to cry. “You don’t have to apologize. I had no idea, really.” He took one of Hwitaek’s hand into both of his. Hwitaek knew his own fingers were cold, and kind of sweaty, and definitely shaky. Hyojong’s hands were warm, of course, because what else would the sun feel like? Hyojong’s skin seemed to be shining, even under the dull light of their living room. The plants surrounding him all but breathed life into him, lighting him up like the lights of a parade. He was the most beautiful person Hwitaek had ever seen, there was no doubt about that. “How long?” he asked, quiet, like he wasn’t supposed to be asking a question like that. It was only fair that he knew, though. He deserved to know about this, after how long Hwitaek had been keeping this as a secret.

 

“I think forever,” Hwitaek said honestly. He was pretty sure he had been in love with Hyojong the moment he had seen the other man’s smile, all the way back in middle school. He had been too young to tell, then, and too preoccupied with coming out of the closet in high school, to really realize it. And then his first couple years of college, he figured he just loved being Hyojong’s best friend. He had been clueless. “I didn’t know until like six months ago, though.”

 

“Oh,” Hyojong said.

 

It was quiet for a moment. Hwitaek could hear the clock ticking on the wall over their living room, and their neighbors listening to music. He could hear his heart beating, seemingly slower by the second, even though he knew it was all in his head. He could hear himself breathe, and he could hear Hyojong breathe, practically in sync with each other.

 

Hwitaek felt like a flower that had shriveled up until it was brittle and ugly, ready for someone to step on him and shatter his metals into a thousand different particles. He felt colourless and dry, void of any of the life that had currently filled his veins. He felt exhausted, like he was going to let those weights pull him down through the earth, until he finally gave up and let himself close his eyes. He didn’t like keeping secrets from Hyojong, but he thought that if he told him, a weight would be lifted off of him, or something. He didn’t know what it was, but the weight had doubled, and then doubled again, and he felt worse than he ever had. He felt heavy, yet weak, and he wished he could take this all back. He felt dull.

 

Hyojong spoke, but it sounded like he didn’t know what to say. “I’m… I don’t know—You know I’m—”

 

Hwitaek smiled, a small smile that was entirely build up of sadness. “I know you’re straight,” he said softly, his voice barely coming out as a whisper. “I didn’t expect you to feel the same way, or anything, I’ve always known. I just didn’t want to lie to you, any more.”

 

“Thank you,” Hyojong said, still staring at Hwitaek. The older man felt like he was going to shrivel up under his gaze. The last thing he’d know were those colourless eyes, and he didn’t think he’d mind that too much. “I love you, I just…” Hyojong sighed. Hwitaek felt bad for making Hyojong feel bad. Right now, he felt like he could do nothing right. “I can’t, in that way.”

 

Hwitaek pursed his lips, and he felt his throat tighten. Of course he didn’t expect Hyojong to magically be not straight. That was ridiculous. He knew Hyojong wouldn’t love him back, at least romantically, and he was used to telling himself that. It was an idea he was very familiar with. But hearing it out loud was something different. It felt like he was a rose, and someone had just plucked all of his petals off, leaving him with nothing but ugly thorns. Hearing Hyojong say he wasn’t in love with Hwitaek was worse than he’d ever imagined it being. Even though he knew it was coming. “That’s okay,” he said. He looked down at the carpet of their living room, and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t want to cry, right now, didn’t want to make Hyojong feel any worse than he already did. It was something he had no control over, hot liquid spilling down his face and onto the fabric of his pants.

 

He could hear Hyojong take a shaky breath in, his eyes looking down at the beige carpet of their living room. “I wish I could,” he said. That only made it worse, to Hwitaek. He knew Hyojong would have done anything to make him happy, but right now, Hyojong couldn’t. There was nothing Hyojong could actually do to fix this situation, and the fact that he wanted to, only made Hwitaek’s chest ache more.

 

Hwitaek’s shoulders and hands were shaking like he was cold. He was cold, but it wasn’t because of the temperature. He was shivering, his blood running cold, the air surrounding him freezing. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. He didn’t want to cry because of something he’d known forever. He stood up, not looking at Hyojong, and walked towards his room. He needed to go to sleep, or shut himself in the darkness of his small room and cry until his eyes hurt and his lips were swollen.

 

Every single fight he’d had with Hyojong ended in a lot of tears. From Hwitaek, of course. He cried easily, but this wasn’t because he was sensitive. They weren’t fighting, this time. They were still friends. Somehow, that didn’t let Hwitaek believe he was going to cry any less. After everything he and Hyojong had been through, he didn’t think heart break was going to be what shattered him.

 

“Hwitaek,” Hyojong said, making the older man turn around. He’d used his real name, something Hyojong almost did, and it only made the tears come harder. The name sounded foreign, because neither of them were used to hearing Hyojong say that, anymore. It sounded familiar, though, because it was Hyojong. It was Hwitaek’s name. And they were the very best of friends.

 

“Yeah?” Hwitaek asked softly, looking at the blue-haired man.

 

Before either of them could say any more, Hyojong’s arms were wrapping around Hwitaek’s torso, pulling him into a hug. Hwitaek returned the hug, tears dampening a spot on Hyojong’s yellow, worn t-shirt. A dam had broken inside of Hwitaek, after trying to keep it controlled for so long. The barricades had been slowly broken down for the past six months, until nothing but splinters were left. He couldn’t stop crying, kept shaking in the arms of his best friend. Hwitaek felt cold, and for the first time since Hwitaek met him, Hyojong couldn’t change that.

 

Hyojong smelled of petrichor. It was a scent they were accustomed to, since they loved the rain. After so many weeks, or months without rain, the sky would finally grey, and it would rain. Sometimes, Hyojong and Hwitaek would go for walks around their neighborhood, when the concrete was still darkened and wet, and when the clouds were still filling the sky with the colour of doves. It would smell fresh, and wet, and beautiful in the softest way. It always made Hwitaek happy, being surrounded in the atmosphere that had just been soaked. That was what Hyojong smelled like, right now, and it was a good reflection of Hwitaek’s tears.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hyojong said, his voice cracking a little bit. It sounded the way thunder did, when lighting hit the ground. It was quiet, but shocking. That was when Hwitaek realized that Hyojong was crying, too. Hyojong really didn’t cry often; he was a strong person. He was filled with a lot of positive energy, and he had a good mindset. Hwitaek had only seen him cry a couple of times, when Hyojong was hurting the very most. Hwitaek hadn’t expected his heart to get broken twice, that night. “I’m really sorry.”

 

-

 

Hwitaek had been staying in bed, for the past five days. He’d gone to a few of his classes, but truthfully he didn’t have the energy to get out of the house and listen to lectures. Besides, he had the flu. Or something like it.

 

He wasn’t sure he was actually as sick as the flu, but there was something. His head hurt, his throat hurt. That might have been because of all of the crying he’d done, but who could be sure?

 

He remembered the first time he realized Hyojong were best friends. He hadn’t had a best friend before him, and neither had Hyojong. It was a couple weeks into their friendship, all the way back in middle school. Hyojong had been upset because his dog had run away. And Hwitaek had been there to comfort him. They were sitting behind the school, against the wall, with their knees pulled up to their faces. Hyojong wasn’t crying, wasn’t talking at all. He was just upset, and wanted Hwitaek to be there with him. Hwitaek had a hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles into his skin. Hyojong had sniffed, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “ _We’re going to be best friends until the very end, right_?”

 

Every morning, he woke up on time. He woke up with enough time to shower, eat breakfast, and go to class. He could have gone to his classes. But the heaviness in his chest and stomach was enough to keep him pinned down with his back to the mattress, unwilling to let up and let him go. It felt like his chest and stomach had been hollowed out and filled with something much, much heavier. Every time he thought of Hyojong, and his hug, and his smile, it became a little bit more impossible for Hwitaek to do anything. It made him drag his feet to the kitchen to eat the bare minimum, it made him slump against any surface he touched. He felt too heavy to stand on his own, the void in his stomach making it impossible for him to do so. His body was exhausted, from his thoughts constantly running on high. Every move he made felt like he was moving towards syrup. Or honey.

 

Hwitaek stayed in his room, for the majority of the time. He was still cold, so he stayed under the covered, where it felt like nothing could find him. He was safe under his blankets, safe from the cold, from his feelings, from the presence that lived within the apartment with him who existed in this moment to hurt him. He stayed under the blankets because he felt like he was in his own bubble, way from the rest of the world. Away from the pain that inevitably waited for him outside the dark blue covers.

 

He turned the lights on, sometimes. If he was just lying in bed, or playing on his phone, Hwitaek kept the lights off, because he didn’t care enough to get up and turn them on. He turned them on if he wanted to open a book, or try to do some school work. Most of the time, though, his book and assignment lied there, unfinished. Hwitaek couldn’t gather enough motivation to keep reading, or keep writing. All he wanted to do was lie down, out of harms way.

 

The weights that had been pulling him down had won, and he was aware of that. Hwitaek let himself sleep for most of the day, and laid awake at night, wishing he could return to that state. At night, his eyes were wide, staring at the dark ceiling that the moon cast shadows on through his window. He wondered if there was something wrong with him, for falling in love with his best friend. He wondered if it was selfish to fall for Hyojong, because of how nice Hyojong was to him. He wondered if he would ever get over the void in his chest, that seemed to be sucking the rest of him in. He wondered if he could, after how long he’d known and loved Hyojong. Most of all, Hwitaek wondered if he and Hyojong could go back to normal, before Hwitaek had confessed to him, and if they would be best friends like they always had been, forever.

 

Hyojong talked to Hwitaek a little bit, during the fays Hwitaek was bed-ridden. He had been kind, and as caring as always. Hwitaek hadn’t been talkative, and he blamed it on his illness. Hyojong made sure not to touch him, either because he didn’t want to get the flu, or because he didn’t want to do that to Hwitaek. His hand would lift to touch Hwitaek’s forehead, or his arm, or his hair, but it’d just hand in the air. Then, it’d settle back down to his side, and Hyojong would purse his lips. He’d tell Hwitaek to get better soon, and he’d give a small smile, to show that he still loved Hwitaek.

 

Hwitaek had to close his eyes, every time.

 

He didn’t want to be upset Hyojong wasn’t romantically in love with him. He knew that was impossible, all along. He was grateful they were still friends, for now. He valued Hyojong’s friendship more than anything. Right now, though, he had to close his eyes to Hyojong’s shining smile, and not think about the way it made his chest feel. Hwitaek had to take this time for himself, even if it meant he cried three times a day. He loved Hyojong. As a friend, as more. He had to come to terms with the inescapable.

 

“I’m not ready to go back to normal,” Hwitaek explained, looking at his friend, Hongseok. He didn’t have the strength to go out into his living room, and be Hyojong’s best friend, like they always had been. He couldn’t act like none of this was affecting him. He needed more time.

 

He’d told the rest of his close friends about being in love with Hyojong, after he’d confessed. None of them had known for sure, but apparently they’d all had a feeling. Hwitaek wondered if he’d been that obvious, the entire time. He was sure their friends knew he was in love with Hyojong, before he’d even know. It was harder to control the expressions on his face than he’d thought it was. It was hard for Hwitaek to hide how he was feeling. Especially with the amount of unbridled love he felt whenever Hyojong was around. He supposed he really couldn’t hide something like that.

 

Hongseok had a dark orange beanie pulled over his head, the tips of his ears sticking out. His skin looked warm, under the light of Hwitaek’s bed room, but it didn’t make Hwitaek feel warm. Hongseok was sitting on the edge of Hwitaek’s bed, looking down at him. “That’s okay,” he said softly. He pet Hwitaek’s undoubtedly messy hair, his lips shifting into a sympathetic smile. “You look sick, do you need anything?”

 

Hongseok had come by when Hwitaek had refused to answer any calls or messages. He’d been worried, which Hwitaek felt bad about, so he’d stopped by to check on him. Hyojong had pointed him to his room, where Hongseok found Hwitaek bundled in his bed, the light off. He’d turned the light on and smiled caringly at Hwitaek. He was a good friend, and he was kind about the situation Hwitaek was going through. It didn’t fix everything and make things go back to the way they were supposed to have been, but it helped. Not being alone made Hwitaek feel a lot better.

 

Hwitaek tried to sink deeper into the mattress, which was unfortunately impossible. “I’m not sure I’m actually sick,” he admitted, “I think I’ve just been crying too much. Don’t tell Hyojong, though, please. I don’t want to make him feel bad.”

 

Hongseok’s eyes flickered to the door of Hwitaek’s room, the other side of which Hyojong was on. “I won’t,” he said. “He’s going to worry because you’re sick, though. I know this all feels awful, and I’m sorry, but you two are best friends. He loves you.”

 

Hwitaek clenched his jaw in fear of crying, again. His heart was beating loud, and he wished it would just shut up. He knew Hyojong loved him. They were the closest best friends he had ever met, and there were reasons for that. He feared that a lot of those reasons were because he was in love with him. He didn’t want the only thing steering their friendship forward to be Hwitaek’s unrequited feelings. Logically, he knew that wasn’t why they were so close. Nonetheless, it scared him. “Have you ever gone through something like this?” he asked, looking up at Hongseok. If he knew what Hwitaek was feeling, that would make him feel better. It was hard to explain, how hollow Hwitaek felt. “Did you ever love someone who didn’t love you back?”

 

Hongseok nodded. “Once,” he said, looking down at the sheets covering Hwitaek. “It was in high school, and there was this guy I was in love with. He was one of my friends, too, but we weren’t best friends, or anything. I really liked him, for two years or so, and I thought I was in love with him. Then we graduated high school, and I told him how I felt, and he didn’t return the feeling.” He gave a short laugh, recalling these memories. “I thought I was past the point of no return, I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. I did get over it, though, and now I never think of him.”

 

Hwitaek sat up, letting the blankets gather around his hips. He leaned his head back on the wall, tears brimming at his eyes. “But this is Hyojong,” he said, the tears spilling out the ends of his eyes, travelling down the line of his cheeks and jaw. He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. “He’s still my best friend, I don’t want to not think of him anymore. I like being his friend, that’s the most important thing to me.”

 

It felt like Hwitaek had been submerged in ice water. There was cold water clinging to his skin, to his nose and cheeks. Ice had frozen his fingers, and his feet. The ice had formed a block inside his chest, where he could usually feel his heart beating, and it had no intentions of melting. Everything Hwitaek saw was obscured by the icy coolness of the water, every one of his thoughts made painful by the icicles forming behind his eyes. He didn’t want to drown, he knew that. He wanted to swim his way to the top and take a breath, and get somewhere warm. This was ice water, though, and he knew that was impossible. It was so cold, it made it impossible for Hwitaek to properly use his limbs. And his organs were shutting down from being so cold. He couldn’t feel his face, or his chest, all he could feel was how badly it hurt. Hwitaek was afraid he would never be able to swim out of this.

 

“I know,” Hongseok said. “I know how it feels, I really do. It sucks, but you have to know that you’ll move on, eventually. It’s the only way you’re going to be okay.” Sometimes, Hwitaek thought that Hongseok had lived a thousand lives. He was too wise to truly be twenty-four years old. Maybe he’d lived forever, and he was just telling Hwitaek what he’d learned so far. It made sense, to Hwitaek.

 

“I’ve known him for like half my life,” Hwitaek groaned. “I wish I hadn’t told him how I felt, now we both feel like shit and I can’t stop crying.” He wished he had kept his confession a secret, even though he knew he couldn’t have. He hated keeping secrets from Hyojong, no matter how small. This had been a big secret, and Hwitaek had hated it more than anything. Maybe, though, if he’d kept it a secret, he wouldn’t feel like this.

 

“Hyojong is fine,” Hongseok assured, for which Hwitaek was grateful for. He wanted Hyojong to live his life as he should, even if Hwitaek couldn’t be there to see it, right now. “You’ll be fine, too. You two will go back to being best friends, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened. You’ll find someone you love as much as you love Hyojong, and they’ll love you back twice as much.”

 

“I don’t know how I can get over it when I have to see him every day.” Hwitaek genuinely didn’t think he would ever meet someone he was capable of loving as much as he loved Hyojong. He didn’t think that was possible. They had been through so much together, through good times, and bad ones. They knew everything about each other, especially now. Hwitaek couldn’t dedicate as much time to someone else as he was used to dedicating to Hyojong. In the end, Hyojong would always be there longer, and he’d always know him better. In the end, it would always be Hyojong.

 

Hongseok thought for a moment, his fingers running through Hwitaek’s hair. “Can I make a suggestion I really don’t think you’re going to like?” he asked. He was smiling apologetically, as if he’d already said it. Hwitaek shrugged his shoulders, still staring at the ceiling. “Maybe you should move out.”

 

Hwitaek snapped his head down to look at Hongseok, a scowl on his face. “Move out?” he asked. “That’s not even an option. I’ve lived with Hyojong for three and a half years, I can’t just up and leave because I’m in love with him and he’s straight. I can’t do that—”

 

“I know you don’t like it,” Hongseok said. “But being around him right now is obviously hard on you. You need to take your emotions into account, too. You’re not going to get over this unless you give yourself time and space to do so, and you can’t do that when you live in the same apartment as someone. Maybe it’ll be just what you needed, who knows?”

 

Hwitaek shook his head quickly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Can you imagine how upset Hyojong would be? He’s still my best friend, I can’t move out, that’s selfish.” He couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to break the news to Hyojong that he was moving out. He couldn’t do something like that to him, no matter how badly it hurt.

 

“It’s not selfish. I know you care about other people, and that’s great, but right now you need to care for yourself. We all want you to be happy, Hui, and that counts Hyojong.” Hongseok said quickly. He stood up, patting Hwitaek on the shoulder. “Just think about it, okay?”

 

Hwitaek nodded. “I’ll think about it.” He probably wouldn’t, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t think he could move out of this apartment without Hyojong. It wasn’t like them. He’d need something a lot more painful than a tiny bit of heartbreak to drive him away. It was sweet that Hongseok cared about him so much, though. “I appreciate it.”

 

“I’m going to get going, but text me if you need anything.” Hongseok opened the door, looking down at the shorter man. “Actually, text me like once a day so I know you’re still alive.” He laughed a little, his nose scrunching up as he did.

 

Hwitaek smiled, realizing that he hadn’t done that in about five days. “Thanks, Hongseok.”

 

Hongseok closed the door behind him, leaving Hwitaek alone with his thoughts.

 

He wished he wasn’t being such a burden to his friends. They all claimed they wanted to talk with Hwitaek about Hyojong, and how he was feeling about everything, but there was no way Hwitaek could do that without feeling like he was wasting their time and putting pressure on them to solve his problems. He could solve his problems on his own, he always had. When he was in elementary school, long before he’d met Hyojong, the teachers used to ask him if he needed help with a math problem, or a reading assignment. It was clear that he was struggling, but he’d always refuse. He wanted to be able to solve a math problem on his own, or figure out what the reading assignment was asking. He liked figuring things out on his own, even if they were really difficult. He didn’t want to make anyone else feel like they _needed_ to help him, and he’d always been that way. He had weight on his shoulders, but it wasn’t a weight he needed to put onto anyone else. While he appreciated all that his friends were willing to do for him, he couldn’t bring himself to let them help him. This was his problem, and he could get over it. He was sure there was some way he could fix how he was feeling, and his feelings towards Hyojong. He could, and he would do it on his own. No matter how long and painful the process was.

 

There was a moment Hwitaek thought he fell asleep. If he did, it was for no more than twenty minutes, and he woke up right away, anyway. He had no energy to do anything, but it was probably best for him to drink some water.

 

Hwitaek left his room with his water bottle in hand. He hadn’t heard Hyojong in the living room, for the past few minutes, so this was a good time for him to venture out of the comfort of his bedroom, for once. He’d been crying a little extra, lately, so his body needed more hydration than usual. He hadn’t had anything to drink for a couple of hours, but his lips felt chapped and his mouth was dry, so he figured it was as good of time as any. He rounded the corner to go into the kitchen, so he could get some water out of the sink. It wasn’t great water, but it was—

 

All of the air in Hwitaek’s lungs left in a rush.

 

It felt like he’d gotten punched in the stomach. It felt like he was going to throw up.

 

God, he really was going to throw up.

 

There was a girl. She was sitting on the beige couch, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. She was leaning forward, her lips… Her lips attached to Hyojong’s. They were kissing in the middle of Hyojong and Hwitaek’s living room, lips sliding together.

 

Hwitaek was going to throw up.

 

It wasn’t like he’d never seen Hyojong kiss a girl, before. He’d seen him kiss plenty of girls, Hyojong was rather popular and Hwitaek was always by his side. But all of those kisses were quick pecks, never lasting for more than two seconds. They were boring, regular kisses that had no fire behind it, no passion. Hwitaek had seen a thousand plain kisses in his life time, and none like this.

 

Hwitaek was dizzy. Why was he dizzy? He felt like he was going to pass out.

 

Hyojong’s hand was on the side of the girl’s neck, his eyes closed in concentration. The girl’s hands were on Hyojong’s shoulders, one where Hwitaek knew Hyojong’s tattoo was. His lips were slotted with the girls, their mouths moving together in perfect harmony. They were kissing, tongue and all, and Hwitaek had never seen anything that twisted his stomach to such a degree.

 

He didn’t know why he felt betrayed. He knew he shouldn’t have. Maybe it was because he’d confessed to Hyojong five days ago, and Hyojong had already brought a girl into their home. It was Hyojong’s right, though. Hwitaek had no actual reason to feel as betrayed as he did.

 

They were kissing so hard, they didn’t even notice Hwitaek was there. That was, until he backed up into a wall, rattling one of the pictures of he and Hyojong that hung on the wall. He disappeared into his room before he could see the two of them break apart. He didn’t want to see the way their lips pulled at the other’s as they separated. He didn’t need water, anyway. He would be fine.

 

He shut the door of his bedroom and he locked it, faster than he could comprehend. He let the empty water bottle slip out of his hand and fall to the floor. He pressed his back up against the cool wood of the door, staring wide eyed across the room. He was processing what he’d just seen.

 

He didn’t like it.

 

He’d never _liked_ seeing Hyojong kiss his girlfriends. He’d always been a little bit uncomfortable, but he didn’t like seeing _anyone_ kiss, so he chalked it all up to that. He usually looked away when Hyojong pulled his girlfriends in for a kiss. That was polite, and after Hwitaek realized he was in love with him, it was just because it made him uncomfortable.

 

This, though. This was different. He wanted to look away so, so badly, but he’d never seen anything like it. He’d never seen Hyojong kiss his girlfriends like that. Now, he wasn’t uncomfortable. It was on a higher level. He saw their lips, and their tongues, and he saw the heat behind each one of the movements. It was something he’d never purposefully thought about, and it was something he hoped he’d never have to see. He _hated_ this kiss, with every fiber of his being. Even more, he hated that he hated seeing the kiss. He was being selfish.

 

But Hwitaek couldn’t breathe. He slid down against the door, gasping for oxygen like a fish out of water. He couldn’t manage to get enough air in his lungs to sustain him, and it was making him light-headed. He was already dizzy, but now he couldn’t breathe, and he thought it was going to kill him. His hands were shaky, and sweaty, and cold, and he couldn’t focus on breathing for long enough for it to actually be effective. He couldn’t breathe, and when liquid dripped onto the front of his shirt, he realized he was crying, too. He was sitting on the floor of his bed room, incapable of doing anything other than trying to get his thoughts straight so he could function.

 

He couldn’t breathe, and his stomach was twisting hard.

 

Hwitaek stood up, swallowing his breaths down. His hand was shaking, so he had to try a couple times to get his door unlocked. He couldn’t get his fingers to stay _still_ , and he was frustrated with himself for being so vulnerable. He unlocked the door and hurried to the bathroom, sure he wouldn’t see Hyojong on the way there. He locked the door, and looked in the mirror.

 

He looked… _bad_. His hair was messier than he thought, the bags under his eyes a dark purplish hue. His skin was pale and sweaty, and he was still trying to breathe. He didn’t think he’d ever looked worse.

 

Every time he closed his eyes to blink, he saw it. He saw Hyojong’s hot pink, rose petal lips, linked with the lips of that girl. He saw Hyojong’s tongue passing past his own lips, and into the girl’s mouth. He saw Hyojong’s hand on the side of the girl’s neck, and he saw the way they were leaning in to each other.

 

He was reminded of how much he wasn’t over Hyojong, how much he was never going to be able to get over Hyojong.

 

Hyojong felt sick. Truly sick, for the first time during this whole ordeal. He didn’t understand why, until he knelt on the ground, in front of the toilet.

 

Hwitaek was alone. Before, he’d always had Hyojong. Earlier, he had Hongseok. But right now, on the tiles of their bathroom floor, there was no one else around. Physically, there were at least two other people in the apartment. That somehow made it worse, though, because Hwitaek felt more alone than he ever had. All these years, he’d had Hyojong to keep him away from his greatest fear of all. It wasn’t material, like Hyojong’s fear of water, or so many people’s fear of spiders, or snakes, or even clowns. Right now, Hyojong couldn’t save Hwitaek. It was his worst fear.

 

Hwitaek was alone.

 

And that made him sick to his stomach.

 

-

 

“You’re _what_?” Hyojong asked, his endless eyes wide with shock.

 

It was morning. The sun was high up in the sky, light streaming into their living room and filling it. The plants on their window sills were as green as could be, the walls a stark white, in contrast. Everything around their apartment seemed silent: no construction, so neighbors, no birds chirping outside of their windows. It was their home, their space. Hyojong was fully lit, the sun outlining his silhouette, reminding Hwitaek that angels might really exist.

 

Hyojong looked like he didn’t even belong in this apartment, the way he looked. Light was outlining his hands, and hair, and clothes; he looked like he was literally glowing. He was too bright for this apartment. Besides the plants, everything was white, or beige, and plain. He had blue hair, and healthy skin, and he radiated light in much more than the literal sense. He was too good, too beautiful to be standing in this boring living room, in the company of the greyest person on the earth’s surface. He looked like he belonged on the prow of a ship, as the figurehead, like the beautiful women Hwitaek saw in history textbooks and movies. He looked like he should have been carved out of marble, to rival Aphrodite and Adonis themselves. He looked like he should have been painted by every impressionist in Europe, if only so they could try to get the outstanding hues Hyojong exhibited. Hyojong looked like he belonged in Heaven, with the purest and most beautiful beings in the galaxy.

 

Hyojong looked out of place, in this apartment.

 

Truthfully, though, it was Hwitaek who was out of place.

 

Hwitaek was shivering, again. He was doing better than he had been when he’d seen Hyojong kissing that girl, and had thrown up in the toilet. He was doing better than that, but not by much. “I’m moving out,” Hwitaek said, not looking Hyojong in the eyes. He couldn’t, he knew how hurt Hyojong would look. He couldn’t bring himself to do that. This was hard enough for him, as it was. “I need to, it’s the only way I can get better.”

 

Hyojong knew he wasn’t sick. They both knew that much. “I don’t understand,” he said. Hyojong was dressed for the day, in dark jeans and a mustard sweater. He seemed to be drowning in the warm colour of the knit fabric, the colour contrasting against the coolness of his hair. He was standing in their living room, Hwitaek standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He looked tense, like every muscle in his body was making him stand straight up, making him look at Hwitaek with intensity. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you--?”

 

Hwitaek shook his head quickly. He was just wearing plain sweatpants and a white t-shirt, too busy with packing too put on anything nicer. “Of course you didn’t, it’s not you. You’re great.” He swallowed hard. Hyojong had always been great, always would be great.

 

Hyojong was quick to keep questioning him. “Where are you leaving to? Do you already have your own place? You should have told me earlier.” He seemed frantic, shooting out these questions like it was the only way he was going to get air to his lungs.

 

Hwitaek looked down at his own hands, fidgeting them. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, but he knew it was what’s right. He shouldn’t have kept it from Hyojong for so long, but he hadn’t been strong enough to face the other man. “I’m probably going to stay with Changgu for a while, if everything works out. If not, I can just go back to my mom’s place, until I find somewhere else to live.” All of their friends had offered for Hwitaek to stay with them, but Changgu’s place was closest to the college. Changgu was sweet.

 

Hyojong stepped forward and put his hands on Hwitaek’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been worried sick about you, Hui. I know you have a lot going on, but for the love of god, at least tell me if you’re planning to move out.” He shook him a little, pain shining in his eyes.

 

Hwitaek looked away, stepping out of Hyojong’s grip. The blue haired man’s hands fell back to his sides. “I just think it’s the healthiest option for me, right now. It’s not ideal, I know, but—”

 

“Is it because you saw me kiss that girl?” Hyojong asked, and it felt like a brisk slap to the face. “I know you saw us, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would be in the living room, I thought you were asleep.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring at his best friend like he was going to be able to see through him, and see his thoughts. It might have worked, he knew Hwitaek so well.

 

“No,” Hwitaek said. Lied. “That’s not why. You have every right to have girls in here, it’s none of my business. I know you like those girls, and just because I screwed everything up doesn’t mean you should stop doing what you like.” Logically, Hwitaek knew this was true. The reasonable, smart part of Hwitaek knew that Hyojong could do what he wanted, and Hwitaek’s feelings shouldn’t have affected that at all. The more emotional, vulnerable part of Hwitaek wished Hyojong would have waited just a _bit_ longer to bring a girl into their apartment. He knew it was hard on Hwitaek, but he did it anyway. Hwitaek pushed those thoughts down. He was being ridiculous.

 

“You didn’t screw everything up,” Hyojong sighed, shaking his head. His hair was like the waves, a more faded blue, now. They were the waves that lapped up on the sand, at the shore. It was a pretty, dusty blue. It made Hyojong look timeless. “You don’t have to move out because of this, we can get through it together.”

 

“That’s the problem,” Hwitaek said, his heart clenching in his chest. “I love you, Hyojong, but we can’t just _do_ this together. I have to get over you, and I think the only way I can do that is if we spend some time apart. You’re going to have girls over for the rest of our lives, and that’s fine; I have to be fine with that.”

 

Hyojong looked hurt, and Hwitaek wished everything would change. He never wanted to hurt Hyojong. Of all the things he wanted to do in his life, causing pain to his best friend was at the very bottom. He hated himself, for it. “I sent that girl home because I was worried about you, you know? I don’t want to upset you, I’m sorry if seeing me kiss her was hard for you.”

 

Hwitaek closed his eyes, trying to think without getting upset. It hurt worse to know that Hyojong was worried about him. “I don’t _want_ you to be worried about me, though,” Hwitaek said, and Hyojong’s lips parted in surprise. The blue-haired man took half a step back, like Hwitaek’s words had physically pushed him back. “I don’t want you to have to send girls home because of my feelings, that isn’t fair to you.”

 

“I didn’t like her anyway,” Hyojong defended. “I don’t mind sending girls home if it makes you feel better. I know this has to be rough on you, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m always willing to—”

 

“I do have to do it alone,” Hwitaek said, his voice stern. He needed Hyojong to understand where he was coming from. He needed to get it through his head that Hwitaek was the one with the problem, and just because they were best friends, didn’t mean they could do everything together. “I appreciate all you’re trying to do for me, but with something like this, it isn’t going to work. You can’t help me, because right now you’re the problem.”

 

Hyojong’s eyes went wide, his lips turning down into a frown. “I wish I could return your feelings, Hui, I really do.” He started walking towards his room, so Hwitaek stopped him. He wrapped a hand around Hyojong’s wrist, the one with red ‘x’s tattooed on it.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, looking at Hyojong’s face. “I mean I’m having a lot of issues, right now, and being around you unfortunately isn’t making it any better. You’re my best friend, you always will be, but being around you really, really hurts. I think we’ll benefit from having space.” There was no way he could get over Hyojong if he saw him every day. Hyojong was too lovable, too perfect not to love. He needed some time away, to forget how entirely breathtaking Hyojong was.

 

“I’m sorry this is happening,” Hyojong said honestly.

 

Hwitaek let Hyojong’s wrist go, in favour of just looking at him. Him, and his fair-skinned, blue haired beauty. His nose was straight, but not too big, and his lips were cute. His eyes were dark, and full of life, and his eyelashes framed them perfectly. He was the mot beautiful being on the planet. “We’ve lived together for long enough,” Hwitaek said, trying to get out a small smile. He didn’t think it worked. “Maybe this is our big break.”

 

Hyojong’s voice was quiet, when he spoke. “I don’t want you to move out, though.”

 

“Yeah,” Hwitaek said. “I don’t want to, either. I just need to, if we’re ever going to properly be best friends, again. Which I really want.” He wanted to be Hyojong’s best friend, more than anything in the whole world. He’d always wanted to be Hyojong’s best friend, and he always had been. He didn’t want his reckless emotions to put a stop on that. They knew each other too well to reduce that to nothing.

 

“Me too,” Hyojong sighed. “You’re my best friend, you know? I don’t care if you’re in love with me, or if you’re not, you’ve always been there for me. I know I can’t return your feelings, but I still love you. We’re going to be best friends until the very end, right?” His eyes were glassy with tear, threatening to spill out over his waterline.

 

_We’re going to be best friends until the very end, right?_ Those were the words Hyojong had said that made Hwitaek realize they were best friends, in the first place. They were eternally binding words, that meant more than any promise could.

 

“Yeah,” Hwitaek said, the words leaving him in a rush of air. “This is just space. We’ll always be best friends.” His eyes pricked with warmth, so he blinked a couple times. He cleared his throat. “I need time to stop being so in love with you,” he explained simply.

 

Hwitaek didn’t think he would ever stop being in love with Hyojong. Even after all of this was said and done, and it didn’t hurt anymore, Hwitaek thought that feeling would always linger in the back of his mind. When they were back to normal, watching kids cartoons and eating pizza rolls fresh out of the stove, he knew he would always think about it. When Hyojong laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe, or when his eyes creased, or when Hyojong’s cheeks and nose turned pink from the cold. The feeling would always be there. It wouldn’t twist at his stomach, or clench in his chest, anymore, but it would exist. He would look at Hyojong, and sigh, and remember how in love with him he once was, and how in love with him he would always be. Even if they both got married, or had kids, Hwitaek would still sigh and think that. Because this was Kim Hyojong. And he didn’t think it was possible to fall out of love with him.

 

Hyojong nodded, looking down at the floor. “I wish I could help,” he said. He had no energy in his voice, like he usually did. The words just rolled off of his tongue, like he was trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

 

“Me too.”

 

Hwitaek headed towards his room, where he’d already started packing. He had most of his books packed up, and a good portion of his clothes, as well. He hadn’t told Hyojong about it until today, and he hadn’t been planning to. Hyojong had walked into his room, without knocking, and he’d seen all the boxes and empty shelves. Hwitaek had to tell him, then. Now, they were here.

 

“Can I ask, though?” Hyojong was standing in the same place he had been, when Hwitaek turned around to look at him. His blue hair was in a mess around his face, sticking to his lips and frizzing up around his head. “Why did you fall in love with me? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, because I know all of this is hurting you. But I mean, of all the people I know have liked you, why did you end up falling for me?” He was looking at Hwitaek like he really needed to know, so Hwitaek thought he’d give him what he wanted. After all Hyojong had done for him, he deserved to know something like that.

 

Hwitaek thought about this, for a moment. He didn’t think he could every accurately explain all of the things Hyojong made him feel. There was too much to it, to many years of his emotions building and building. He swallowed hard. “You’ve always been there, you’re bright. You’re beautiful.” Tears were blurring his vision, when he looked at Hyojong’s face. There was something simple, the only thing Hyojong’s beauty really could rival. “You’re the sun.”

 

-

 

Hwitaek only had a few more things to do, before he was set to leave.

 

He didn’t have a lot of belongings, so there wasn’t going to be many boxes to haul to Changgu’s place. Changgu had a mini van they were going to try to stuff it all into, and he was going to be here in about an hour and a half.

 

Hwitaek was wearing an old blue shirt, oversized, with a yellow flower over the pocket on the chest. It matched the yellow one Hyojong had, from when they’d spend a day thrift shopping. There was a small hole in his left shoulder, but he was still wearing it. He was never going to get rid of the shirt. He was wearing it as some sort of symbolic gesture—he knew it was silly—but he figured he owed that much to the apartment and to Hyojong.

 

Hyojong hadn’t talked to him much, while he was packing. He didn’t know if it was because Hwitaek had said it hurt to be around him, or if it was because Hyojong was hurting. Either way, it made Hwitaek want to scream.

 

He missed his best friend. He missed _being_ best friends with Hyojong, before all of this had blown over. He missed the gentle touches, and the loud laughs, and fallings asleep watching movies, together. He missed everything that had made him fall in love with Hyojong.

 

Hwitaek was outside, where the sun was beginning to set. The air was pleasantly cool, a little but of warmth remaining from the earlier parts of the day. He wouldn’t have been able to see much, if it hadn’t been for the tall streetlights, illuminating the dark grey of the sidewalk. The sky was a bright pink colour, and it reminded Hwitaek of Hyojong’s lips. Hopefully, while he was staying with Changgu, little things like that wouldn’t remind him of the younger man, anymore. Maybe he would one day be able to live without the colours of the sky punching a hole through his chest. Probably not. But maybe.

 

He was setting boxes by the side of the road, sure that no one would want to steal his collections of books and trinkets he’d gotten while travelling. None of this stuff was worth anything but to him, so he was setting it on the sidewalk, for when Changgu came. He wanted to have his entire room cleared, so he could make sure he got all of his belongings. He wanted to be out of the apartment as early as possible, for everyone’s sake. He’d already paid Hyojong next month’s rent, as an apology for the late notice. After he put all of his boxes and bags in Changgu’s car, he would be free of this place, and he could start moving on. He wouldn’t have to see Hyojong every day, so maybe he’d forget just how incredible the other man was. He would still talk to Hyojong, of course, but on the days he didn’t see him, he wouldn’t have to think about Hyojong’s giggly laugh, or the way he moved when he was practicing his dances alone. He wouldn’t have to think about Hyojong’s satisfied smiles, when he stepped on an especially crunchy leaf. He wouldn’t have to think about the way Hyojong’s nose wrinkled when he ate something he didn’t like. He wouldn’t have to think about every detail of Hyojong that made him ten-thousand times more beautiful with each second that passed. He wouldn’t have to think about this pain, anymore. He could just _be_.

 

 

Hwitaek moved upstairs to his room. The shelves were empty, void of personal belongings that he’d always thought made the space feel so alive. He’d taken some of the pictures off of the walls of the living room, too, but he doubted he would ever look at those. They were all pictures of he and Hyojong, and he didn’t think he could do that to himself. One of the pictures, his favourite, was of he and Hyojong at a lake. It had been a public lake, so there had been many families and friend groups celebrating the hot weather, barbequing and having a good time. The picture was of them seating close next to each other, both of them wearing swim trunks. Hyojong’s trunks were printed with pictures of yellow-rubber ducks, which Hwitaek had laughed about. Hyojong claimed he thought they were cute, and there was no reason a grown man shouldn’t have been able to wear something like that. Hwitaek’s trunks were much plainer, a simple dark blue, accentuated by white threading. They were both smiling in the picture, Hyojong’s once blond hair pushed back, the strands wet and long, some tucked behind his pierced ears. Hwitaek’s hair was pink, hanging over his forehead, dripping water down his face. They were squinting, because of the bright sunlight, but they were smiling. Their smiles were wide, and carefree. It had been one of the best days of Hwitaek’s life, enveloped in warm sunshine and cool water. He and Hyojong had travelled to the lake as a day off, during their first semester of college. It was a gift to themselves, for getting as far in life as they had, together.

 

Yeah, Hwitaek didn’t think he would be looking at that picture, a whole lot. The memory stung, like lemon juice in a paper cut, except the paper cut was in his heart, and it was killing him. One day, eventually, he’d be able to reduce that sting down to the size of an actual paper cut. He didn’t know how far off that time in his life was, but he hoped it was soon. He was exhausted from knowing that his best friend didn’t love him back. Even though he’d always known. It was exhausting.

 

 

He grabbed a box off of the floor, the last box, and moved towards the stairs. They lived on the third floor, so it wasn’t that long of a journey down the stairs. He believed in taking good care of his body, so he didn’t mind all of the legwork. It was good for him.

 

He opened the door to outside, and stepped out, noticing the way the sky had turned into a harsh orange, while he was up in his room. Someone knocked into him, and hard, so he flew backwards, the box falling out of his hands. “Sorry,” he said quickly, more out of habit, than anything. The sun had distracted him, so he apparently hadn’t seen the stranger coming towards him at top speed. His hands were against the cool pavement, the insides of the box sprawling out next to him. They were just books, so he didn’t care that much, but his hands hurt from the fall. He looked up to see wide, black eyes staring him down.

 

“Hyojong?” he asked, confused as to why his best friend was trying to run up the stairs of his apartment. It was Hyojong’s apartment, now. Not Hwitaek’s, not theirs. His.

 

“Hui!” Hyojong exclaimed, helping the grey-haired man to a standing position. His blue hair was messy, swept back like he’d been running. He was talking quicker than Hwitaek could follow, rambling. “I was just about to come find you, I was going to go upstairs, but you’re here. I was just talking to Shinwon and I was talking to him about you, and you can’t move out, okay? You have to stay here and there are so many reasons why, and Shinwon really helped me figure things out, but I can’t have my best friend move out, you can’t do this, and—”

 

“Hyojong,” Hwitaek said, putting his hands on his shoulders. Hyojong was out of breath, so he _had_ been running, and his eyes looked frantic, like he was running from a fire. His hair looked especially dark in the sky of the sunset, warm marmalade sky shining against his azure hair. “What’s going on, is something wrong? I’m about to move in with Changgu, what are you talking about?”

 

Hyojong didn’t speak for a moment, just looked at Hwitaek, all the energy in the world buzzing inside of him. He put his hands on Hwitaek’s shoulders. He looked like he was about to start bouncing up and down, from whatever it was he’d just come from. “Hui, I’m in love with you,” he said in one breath.

 

Hwitaek swallowed. There was a ringing in his ears.

 

He didn’t think he was hearing right.

 

Hwitaek shook his head, blinking a few times. “What was that?” he asked, leaning in so he could hear Hyojong.

 

“I was just at Shinwon’s house, and I was talking about how you’re moving out, and I started crying. And I kept telling Shinwon it was because I was worried about you, because you’re my best friend, and Shinwon told me to shut the fuck up. He asked me why I didn’t stay with all of these girls I hooked up with, and I told him they were too boring.” He took a deep breath, talking so much, and Hwitaek wasn’t sure he was holding onto any of it. “I told him I wanted someone loud, and exciting, and pretty, and funny, and Shinwon told me that it was you I was talking about, but that’s ridiculous, right? I’ve liked girls forever, and I couldn’t just switch because I think you’re interesting, and smart, and good-looking, you’re my best friend, it makes sense.” Hyojong kept looking around Hwitaek’s face, like he was looking for some reaction, some sign that Hwitaek could understand what he was saying. Hwitaek was sure he had a stunned expression on his face, because he really was not understanding any of this.

 

“What?” he asked, intelligent as always.

 

“I told Shinwon I wasn’t in love with you, and he asked me if he could ask you out then, if I was so okay with it. He said he should ask you out for Hongseok, or for himself, or for Jinho, and I couldn’t even _think_ about that, Hui. I don’t want you dating any of our friends, and I thought that was because our friends are kind of stupid, and I told Shinwon that. And Shinwon asked me to imagine you next to someone, and tell him who it was. And he asked me to imagine myself in ten years, with the love of my life, and he told me to tell him who that was, whether I saw a girl, or whatever. I couldn’t see you with _anyone_ , Hui. I just saw _me_ , the whole time I was imagining that. And when I imagined myself, I saw you, too. You’ve always been there for me, and you always will be, right? I imagined myself with the person I love the most in this world, marrying that person, but no girl came to mind. It was _you_ , Hui. I think it’s always been you.”

 

Tears were welling up in Hwitaek’s eyes, and he was unsure of the reaction his body was giving. “What are you trying to say?” he asked quickly. His hands were trembling on Hyojong’s shoulders, but that was okay, because Hyojong’s were trembling on his, too.

 

“I’m in love with you, Hui. I’m so stupid, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize this before now. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just didn’t understand, thank god for Shinwon.” He shook Hwitaek by the shoulders, trying to get his words to process in the older man. It wasn’t working, because Hwitaek was just staring at him blankly, a thousand words racing through his mind. But Hyojong seemed determined. “He knew, and he made me understand, and now we’re here, and I’m in love with you, Hui.”

 

Tears spilled down Hwitaek’s cheeks without warning, the hot liquid quickly cooling in the night air. “Is this some sort of joke?” he asked.

 

“No! No, of course it isn’t. Hui, we’ve known each other for, what, nine years? Ten years? I don’t even know, but I’ve been falling in love with you for every single one of them. You’re my best friend in the world, but there’s so much more to it than that. I can’t believe I didn’t see it until tonight, but I ran over here as soon as I figured it out. I didn’t even tell Shinwon my answers, but I think he got the point. I love you, Lee Hwitaek. I’m really, really in love with you.”

 

Hwitaek was sobbing. His body was wracked with the emotion, hot tears dripping onto the blue fabric of his shirt, onto his own skin, onto Hyojong’s. “Are you really?” he asked, in disbelief. There was no way this was real. Was he dreaming? After all of these months—years—of being in love with Hyojong, he knew there was no way his feelings would be requited. Hyojong had only ever liked girls, and he liked them a lot. There was no way he… _loved_ Hwitaek. That was impossible.

 

Hyojong smiled wide, and tears dribbled down his face. The crystalline liquid was catching the yellow light of the streetlights, the orange of the sky. He nodded quickly. “I am,” he said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know it, I wish I could have. But on my way here, I realized something. You called me the sun, when I asked you why you were in love with me, right?” Hwitaek nodded, salty tears rolling past his lips and onto his tongue. “You’re so wrong, I can’t even begin to explain it.”

 

Hwitaek wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, staring up at Hyojong. Blue hair was sticking to his cheeks, where his tears had fallen. “What do you mean?” None of this was making any sort of sense to Hwitaek. He wasn’t the type of person people fell in love with. He had fallen for a straight man, his best friend, no less. This couldn’t be possible.

 

Hyojong grinned, so wide, tears streaking down the sides of his face. “You’re the fucking sun, Hui.” Hui made a sound that sounded a lot like choking, and then Hyojong was there. He had leaned in, closer than Hui could have _ever_ imagined him. And he was kissing Hwitaek.

 

The kiss was soft, at first, their lips sliding together like they were the last two pieces of a puzzle that had taken nine years to get put together. Hyojong tasted like saliva, and salt from their tears, and he smelled like the rain. He smelled like the rain after so many months of it being dry, and it was refreshing.

 

Hyojong was a good kisser, that went without saying. He was just moving his lips with Hwitaek’s, but they were soft, and they felt _so_ good. Their lips moved together, and Hyojong’s hands came up to cup the grey-haired man’s cheeks. His hands were warm, like the sun was living inside of his palms, and Hwitaek thought he could live in that moment forever.

 

Hwitaek forgot about his scraped palms. He forgot about the books that lie scattered on the concrete, he forgot that Changgu was stopping by the apartment soon, because he was supposed to be moving. None of that mattered now. Nothing mattered to Hwitaek except what was happening right now, here, with Hyojong.

 

Hyojong pulled away, a smile on his face. “Oh my god,” he said, as if he were seeing colour for the first time. His eyes were filled with mirth, sparkling more than any star Hwitaek had ever seen. That was when he understood what Hyojong was talking about, with him being the sun. Everyone told Hwitaek he was the sun. But Hyojong was what made Hwitaek shine the brightest. He made him happy, and loud, and gave him energy. He was feeling that energy for the first time in weeks, and that was being Hyojong was the brightest person to walk the earth. Hwitaek may have been the sun, sure, but Hyojong was the rays of sunlight that warmed the earth and made life beautiful. Hyojong was sunshine.

 

“Yeah,” Hwitaek laughed, wiping tears off of his face. “Are you really in love with me, Hyojong? I’m not dreaming?”

 

Hyojong pulled Hwitaek into a hug, and it was the warmest Hwitaek had ever felt. “I’m really in love with you, Hwitaek. I love you. I love you so much.” He smelled of rain, and blooming flowers, and his skin was as soft as the latter. It was a tight hug, so tight Hwitaek could barely breathe, but he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, even if his life depended on it.

 

“I love you, too.” Hwitaek smiled, more tears dotting the fabric of Hyojong’s yellow shirt. It was the shirt they’d bought together, all those years, in that thrift store that smelled of mothballs. “We’re wearing the same shirt,” he said, smiling so hard he thought his cheeks were going to burst.”

 

Hyojong pulled back, so he could look down at Hwitaek’s blue shirt, and then down at his own yellow one. When he looked up, he was grinning. “I love you,” he repeated, just looking at Hwitaek’s face. He was staring at him like he was the only thing on the sidewalk in front of their apartment, the only thing keeping him warm.

 

Hwitaek laughed, even though the tears wouldn’t stop. This was more than he could have ever imagined. He had been so deeply in love with Hyojong, he thought there was something wrong with him. He was in love with Hyojong. And Hyojong was in love with him, too. “I love you,” he said, just because he liked hearing himself say it, and for it to be returned. “Kiss me again, will you?”

 

Hyojong leaned back in, both of them smiling.

 

The sunrise was one of Hwitaek’s favourite times of the day. Hwitaek liked sunsets, as did everyone else, but he had always like sunrises, more. Birds sang to wake the world up, the air fresh and clean. The sun painted pale blues, and pinks, and yellows across the sky and clouds, enveloping the world in soft colours of assurance. It was a calm, quiet part of day, that only promised fortune and health. There was something about the sun rising and lighting this part of the world up, that made Hwitaek feel at ease. It was beautiful. It was like the sun was coming alive for another day, and Hwitaek really liked that.

 

Right now, with the sun setting around them, the sky covered in deep orange, magenta, and purple, Hwitaek thought he could make an exception.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you felt about this incredibly long one-shot!
> 
> If you want to find my best friend on here, she's under @pixieyutoda, and her instagram is roseyuto
> 
> My instagram: woooseook


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